"Excuse me, am I speaking with Petunia Evans?"
For a moment Petunia freezes. It's been a long time since she's been called that name-well, almost three years, when the officiant asked her if she would marry Vernon-and she nervously glances at the time. It's just gone midnight and Halloween has passed into what Lily had once whispered was All Saints' Day, a time for ghosts. Petunia had scoffed, hadn't wanted the reminder that she wasn't as important, wasn't as interesting as her magical sister; Lily hadn't mentioned it again, and eventually her talk of her brave new world petered away around Petunia.
"Ah, yes, speaking," Petunia said into the telephone's receiver.
"I apologize for calling so late but I'm afraid something horrible has happened. We have a car on the way to collect you-it should be there within half an hour, but it may be early."
"What do you mean-" Petunia begins, but then the line clicks off. In the background of the call she thought she heard an infant wailing. She glances upstairs; Vernon had slept through the ringing phone and her rushing downstairs and Dudley had reached the stage of infancy where he'd started sleeping through the night. She worries that he'll wake and she'll not hear but her friends' mums say that's normal.
Unsure of what's going on but determined to look composed for it, Petunia slips quietly upstairs and swaps robe and nightdress for a dress suitable for the cold. She's put on her shoes and coat and is writing a note in case Vernon wakes to find her gone when someone knocks at the door.
It's an older woman dressed like Lily did for school and she looks at Petunia in a way that sends chills down her spine. "Right this way, Ms. Evans," the woman says.
Petunia fumbles for her purse and keys, locking the door behind her. "It's Mrs. Dursley, actually, uh-"
"Professor McGonagall," the woman says, directing Petunia into the car and she realizes that that's the woman's name.
They are belted into the back seat of some indistinct car before Petunia thinks to ask any questions-it had already been a surreal night when she was lying awake in bed with her snoring husband, before the telephone began ringing downstairs. She glanced sideways at, er, Professor McGonagall and found the professor considering her severely.
"How old is your baby," McGonagall asks, more kindly than Petunia expects.
"Sixteen months," Petunia says.
McGonagall frowns. "Will your baby be alright?"
"He-my husband is in the next room, he should wake if anything happens," Petunia says.
McGonagall nods. "I'm sorry to have woken and called you out of bed, especially with a baby. But it is an emergency."
"I don't know what's going on," Petunia says.
Frowning, McGonagall seems to mull over what to say next. "I don't know what you know of the wizarding community, but recently it has been threatened by a very dangerous man. There have been many families splintered by his actions. Several hours ago-your sister's home was attacked."
"If it was so dangerous a wizard, why would you want plain old Petunia?" Petunia says with a venom that surprises herself.
McGonagall doesn't look offended, only regretful and sad. "His threat seems to be gone, but not without loss.
Petunia laughs a sharp hysterical sound, thinks What have you gotten yourself into this time, Lils?
She thinks about the possibility of Lily, widowed with a baby just younger than Dudley. Would Petunia offer her the spare room next to Dudley's? With Mum and Dad gone, would Lily ask for space with her school friends or her sister? Yes, Petunia thinks. If Lily asked she would say yes.
Petunia realizes that the car has stopped and that McGonagall is awkwardly unfolding herself from the seat. She follows McGonagall out and looks around the street. It's quiet, a nice enough neighborhood except for the house that has its door blown open-the door that a strange old man in long robes stands outside of, looking up at them over odd spectacles. The door opening in front of the vase that Petunia sent Lily last Christmas-this is Lily's house. For the first time that night Petunia feels a pang of worry for her sister.
There are people who are probably the magic equivalent of constables spilling out of the doorway, then it is clear and the strange man is ushering Petunia up into the house and up its stairs and-
-Petunia has seen dead bodies before. She'd been visiting her dad in the hospital oncology ward when he died, had pulled her mum outside so they could take the body away. Had been visiting when Mum passed away quietly of a bad flu. Petunia looks at the young man crumpled backwards at the top of the stairs and thinks, This must be Lily's James.
The man has turned to look at her and is beckoning her on past the dead man. Petunia shivers and inches around him and the blankness frozen on his face.
Petunia sees a tall, tall man in motorcycle leathers bouncing in baby-soothing fashion before stumbling to the floor.
Lily, Lily- Petunia thinks. She wants to scream. "Lily?" she says instead, crawling closer, sobs. "Lily-"
In the morning Petunia will awake in her bed next to her husband and wonder if it was all a dream. Then she will hear a baby's cries and hurry to soothe it, then find the cries ease away from the spare bedroom without her attention. She will walk into Dudley's bedroom and hold him to comfort herself. Last night her sister died and now Petunia's household contains her husband, two infants, and her nephew's half-giant nanny.
It is a different world than it would have been if Petunia's nephew were left on her doorstep early one November the First. In this world Harry Potter does not grow up in the cupboard beneath the stairs.